Let it snow (in the north)

It’s December again, i.e. the nation has now become paranoid about the prospect of snow. And, as I have come to understand it, ‘snow’ can mean up to three different things (depending on who you are).

If you’re sixteen or under, you’re delighted because you get time off school and can throw snowballs at pensioners’ windows just before they freeze to death.
If you’re at work, you’re terrified of losing money or your entire business because you can’t earn any or all your staff are still in bed watching Jeremy Kyle.
And, finally, if you live anywhere north of Birmingham, you’re probably already buried under four foot of the stuff.

I have come to realise that the British Media only appears to operate south of Birmingham – that vast expanse of our nation beyond only comes into its own if Cheryl Cole makes a visit up there. We’re treated to daily warnings of the likelihood of snow, but only if you live in the south. The north is already blanketed in it and generally sick of the ‘hilarious’ comparisons to being ‘Twinned with Narnia.’ We just don’t care. However, should any Tescos Express close its doors in or around London because the staff were snowed in, then we have a crisis (and you don’t have your pint of semi-skimmed).

Apparently the Government already has plans to install a large row of fan heaters stretching across the county keeping the south warm in an attempt to prevent any four-year-old from Reading ever building a snowman again.

When asked to explain why the north didn’t matter, Government spokesman Jeffry Dalmer did his best impression of Captain James T Kirk from Star Trek the Undiscovered Country and snarled, “Let them die!”

Jeremy Clarkson is understood to be already fully backing this motion.

Blame it on the boogie (or Morrissey)

London’s burning, London’s burning – fetch the engines, fetch the engines!

And so on. Basically, as I type, London’s going up in flames, courteously of some right arseholes. The arseholes blame it on the cops, or one cop to be precise – apparently he shot an ‘innocent’ man. And, by ‘innocent,’ I mean he was carrying a gun and therefore the police shot him. Hmm. Funny that.

Now the police are blaming the rioters. The rioters have switched the blame to the police in general for their over-zealous stop-and-search policy and, anyone who doesn’t blame the police or the rioters, is blaming the politicians – who are all on holiday as its summer and left a bald man in charge.

Personally, I blame The Smiths (and/or Morrissey). Every time I see a news report, or read a newspaper, all I see is puns based on The Smiths’ song ‘Panic.’

Think about it: who has most to gain from the riots? Not Londoners – they’re houses are going up in flames. Not the police – they’re looking about as effective at preventing crime as Stephen Hawkins at bath time. The rioters, maybe. They’re getting the odd free widescreen TV. No, it’s The Smiths who are making the real money.

Every time Panic is played they’ll be getting royalties. And even if Batman was to turn up and quash the riot tonight, think of all the clip shows Panic is going to be used for come the end of the year.

Mr Morrissey, you are officially an evil genius, but, what difference does it maaaaake?